Using the Force

For years, praying was exercise. Through the brute force of my intentions, my prayers attempted a form of telekinesis to align all factors to end with the best outcome, sometimes for others, but mostly for me. 

Help me get to school on time with green lights only.

Make the phone ring to distract my mother from lecturing me.

Only a nod to altruism was the virtuous request that my entire lunch table get a homecoming date, so that we could attend the dance together.

As the universe delivered her gifts, sometimes granting, and sometimes not, I collected data on what might be possible. My conversations with God might have sounded like a honey-do list, but I wasn’t spoiled by my guardian angel. I didn’t even achieve the omnipotent power I craved, but these prayers served a role in time. 

Through conversations with God, I grew more aware of myself. There I was, making my worries known, if only in the echo chamber of my mind. Whether or not my prayers were heard by a higher being, I was the essential witness, wasn’t I?

Prayers, for some, are meant to be a dialogue, but it’s when I started paying attention to my inner monologue that things started to change.